Switched at Birth
by SalazarsMistress
Summary: Switched at birth, Hermione Granger grows up as a Muggle-born, instead of the Pureblood Princess she was meant to be. An imposter holds her place, and reuniting with her real family comes with a cost. Is she willing to pay it? Not your typical Pureblood!Hermione story. Arranged Marriage. Rags to Riches. AU
1. Chapter 1

**19 September 1979**

 **Parkinson Manor**

"Hand her over to me...Please, I just want to see my baby." The mother begged. Her hands reached out to the midwife, desperate for her wish to be fulfilled. But soon enough, her frail body gave in, and the tears flowed freely as she watched her baby being whisked away to another room.

Her husband sat by her side on the edge of the bed, clutching one hand of hers in his, while the other softly wiped her tears away.

"You need to rest, darling. You'll have plenty of time with our little girl once you get your energy back." He reassured her.

She smiled up at him despite her momentary sorrow. Her face was pale, but it glistened with the sweat that manifested during her hours of painful labour.

"Scourgify." He muttered, pointing his wand at his wife, and successfully erasing all the messy memories of child-birth.

He watched as the light in his wife's eyes began to dim, until finally, she fell unconscious to the rest of the world.

"Goodnight, my love." He whispered, giving her a tender kiss on the top of her head.

For a while, he just sat there. He stared at his wife in adoration, and thanked Merlin for blessing them with a healthy baby girl.

All the while, when the midwife entered the nursery, cradling the baby in her arms, she felt the poking of a wand on the back of her neck.

"Make a sound, and I'll end your life right _here_." The mysterious perpetrator threatened.

The midwife gasped in fear; not only for her life, but for the baby as well. She heard the man cast a silencing charm in the room.

"Who are you? How'd you even get inside? There are wards—" She whispered fervently, but stopped when she felt the trespasser dig his wand deeper into her skin.

"Did your mistress have a daughter?" The man asked, "Answer me! Now!" He demanded impatiently.

"Y-yes. Mistress was blessed with a baby girl." She stuttered as she quivered in place with the baby securely clutched against her chest.

"Hand her over to me." The man ordered, walking over so that he was now in front of her.

"If it's money you want, the Parkinsons will pay you." The midwife reasoned, shamelessly just trying to survive this madman.

The man scoffed, "Oh it's money I want all right. But not the Parkinson's." He sneered in the dark. "Now give _her_ to me." He demanded yet again. Knowing there was no use in arguing, she carefully placed the baby in the man's arms.

"Please don't hurt her. She's just a baby." The midwife cried.

"Imperio." He whispered; his wand aimed at the defenseless midwife. "Don't worry, love. I'll be back. Don't move, but by all means, make all the sound you want." He cackled.

And with that, the man apparated out of the room, and disappeared before the woman's tear-stained eyes.

* * *

 **Muggle London**

Doctors and patients stared as a woman in dark robes calmly walked out of the hospital, cooing at baby in her arms. The glamour she used on herself showed the Muggles what she wanted them to see, just a loving mother taking her newborn home. But in reality, she was far from Muggle...Or _loving_.

When they turned their heads to get another look at her, she was gone into the night.

She appeared outside of the Muggle hospital. The sky was a black canvas, donned with millions of shimmering stars. It was quite a beautiful night. Ironic however, considering what was about to happen.

"Do you have her?" The dark-robed woman asked as she approached a man also clothed in dark robes.

"Of course, my love. You know how _easily_ I can get pass their wards." The man gloated, clutching the Parkinson's baby in his arms.

"Take this filth off my hands." She sneered in disgust, motioning to the Muggle baby in her arms.

The man and woman exchanged babies. And just like that, the babies' fates were sealed.

"Take that Muggle back to the Parkinson's, and meet me back at our Manor, my love." She instructed him, "Today's been such a tiring day." She moaned as she apparated back inside the hospital.

Inside the hospital nursery, the woman placed the baby down into the empty bassinet. "This isn't personal, little one." She whispered to the little girl, "I hope you do enjoy your life as-" She paused to look at the name tag hanging from the side of the bassinet, "Hermione Granger." The woman laughed at the mundane name, and disappeared into thin air.

* * *

 **Back in Parkinson Manor**

The man appeared in front of the midwife once again. But this time, he was clutching a different baby in his arms.

All babies looked the same to everybody else, but the midwife knew. She knew it wasn't the same baby she helped birthed earlier that night. She watched as the man placed the baby down into her bassinet.

"Told you I'd be back, love." The man said cheekily. "Hope you didn't miss me too much." He laughed. He was a sick man.

Per his instruction from earlier, she hadn't moved an inch. Unfortunately for her, he wasn't gone for too long.

"Hope you understand what I'm about to do. Can't have anyone knowing what happened here tonight." He told the midwife, as he took his wand out, and began performing memory charms on her.

When he was satisfied with his work, he released her from the Unforgiveable curse, and once again, disappeared out of the room.

The midwife shook her head in confusion, wondering why she was standing in the middle of the room, instead of tending to the Parkinson's newborn baby.

Nonetheless, she headed over to the baby's bassinet and soothed her to sleep. As she gently rocked the baby to sleep, her Master walked into the room.

"How's my little girl?" He asked, smiling down at the sleeping form.

"She's perfect, Mr. Parkinson. Have you thought of a name, Sir?" She asked.

"Pansy." He smiled. "Pansy Parkinson."


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Voldemort's on vacation in this story.**

* * *

 **First Year**

 **1 September 1991**

 **Hogwarts Express**

Hermione wandered the narrow corridors of the train, searching for the lost amphibian belonging to a Neville Longbottom.

"Has anyone seen a toad?" Hermione asked politely as she stood by the compartment door.

"We're looking right at one." A girl with short, jet-black hair laughed whilst her eyes met Hermione's.

"Pansy!" A dark-skinned boy chided his friend.

"You're right, Blaise." Pansy responded. "Comparing her looks to that of a toad would be a compliment." She giggled obnoxiously.

Hermione stood with her mouth agape as she listened to their exchange, "I was merely asking a question. No need for your nasty comments." She retaliated.

The black-haired girl huffed with displeasure, "Watch your tongue." She hissed. "Don't you know you're in the presence of Wizarding Royalty?" She boasted proudly.

"I wasn't aware there was a royal family in the Wizarding World." Hermione mumbled to herself. If there was, she would've read all about it in the books she had purchased at Diagon Alley.

"Tell her, Drake." Pansy whined, staring directly at the blonde-haired boy in front of her.

"The Sacred Twenty-Eight." He announced matter-of-factly. "Surely you've heard of it?" He asked, but was met with a look of confusion dawning Hermione's face.

"Pardon? The what?" Hermione snorted.

"My apologies. Let's try this again." The blonde-haired boy continued. "My name is Draco. Draco _Malfoy."_ He smirked as if the mention of his last name was supposed to bring Hermione to her knees.

"Is your name supposed to mean something to me?" Hermione challenged.

"Seems like we've got ourselves a Muggle-born." Pansy said with noticeable disgust. "Get out of our faces. You're stinking up our compartment, you dirty little Mudblood." She scoffed.

Knowing she would just be wasting her breath trying to fight back, Hermione slammed their compartment door shut and continued her quest for Neville's missing familiar.

"Has anyone seen a toad? A boy named Neville's lost one." She repeated exasperatedly.

"No." A red-headed boy responded.

* * *

 **31 October 1991**

 **Hogwarts Corridors**

Hermione had flourished in all her classes. Her thirst for knowledge made her an instant favorite among many of her professors, and her helpfulness towards her fellow classmates already earned her a circle of friends she could count on.

Despite her abundance of admirers, others didn't take too kindly to Hermione's new-found popularity.

Many were jealous of her intelligence and growing crowd of friends, but others merely hated her for her blood.

However, Hermione knew better than to acknowledge their nasty comments. _Why make enemies when you can make friends?_ She'd always ask herself.

She was strolling down the dimly lit corridors of the castle on her way to the Great Hall when she encountered Pansy Parkinson and her hoard of Slytherin girls.

"Hello, girls." Hermione smiled kindly at them. "Off to the Halloween Feast?" She inquired politely. She would have preferred to ignore them, and continued to the Great Hall, but they were blocking her way.

She'd been waiting for this feast evert since she read about it in _Hogwarts: A History,_ and she was praying to Merlin that Pansy and her group of friends wouldn't ruin it for her.

"We need your help." Pansy cried out, taking Hermione by surprise. "The lock on one of the bathroom stalls is jammed, and Millicent can't get out." She explained.

"Y-yes. We tried to perform the unlocking charm but we're afraid we haven't quite mastered the spell yet." Daphne Greengrass said, going along with her friend's story.

Hermione pondered as she listened to the girls' plea for help. She didn't want to miss the feast, but at the same time, she knew she had to help them.

"I-I reckon I could give it a go." Hermione offered.

Pansy and her friends thus escorted Hermione to a bathroom in the dungeons, where their said friend was trapped inside. They urged her to enter first, and Hermione foolishly obliged.

"Which stall is she in?" Hermione asked, making her way deeper into the room with her hand gripping her wand.

Pansy and her friends, on the other hand, stayed by the door, quietly giggling amongst themselves.

"Expelliarmus!" Pansy shouted, successfully disarming Hermione of her wand.

"Wha-" Hermione gasped in surprise, and turned her body towards the assailant.

She ran towards Pansy to get her wand back, but unfortunately, she wasn't quick in enough.

Pansy and her friends had already retreated out of the room, shutting the door in the process.

"Let me out of here!" Hermione begged as she banged her fist against the closed doors.

On the other side, Pansy and her friends laughed as they performed the locking spell.

"No can do, Mudblood. Why should you be allowed to attend the feast? You don't even belong here." Pansy hissed.

"Pansy please! Let me out!" Hermione cried, but Pansy and her friends were already making their way towards the Great Hall.

She continued to cry out for help, but after awhile, she grew tired of banging on the door, and her voice grew weak from all her yelling.

Hermione escaped to one of the stalls, and sobbed in her hands. She was used to Pansy's nasty comments, having endured it ever since the first day of term, but this was a new low.

Despite already being dubbed the brightest witch of her age, Hermione was having a hard time trying to comprehend how someone could be so cruel. She had done nothing wrong. She'd been nothing but friendly towards Pansy and her friends, despite their penchant for making others cry.

Unbeknownst to Hermione, her insistent banging against the bathroom door had gained the attention of a passerby.

Outside, in the corridor, a troll was raising his large wooden club with the intent of breaking down the door.

It was known that the troll was successful in his efforts when Hermione's screams echoed throughout the bathroom.

Fortunately for her, a few of her friends noticed her absence during the feast, and had sent Harry Potter and Ron Weasley out to search for her.

"Rotten luck that her stupid friends found her before the troll finished her off." Pansy complained when she'd heard the news.

* * *

 **Second Year**

 **24 November 1992**

 **Hogwarts Library**

"You're next, you dirty little Mudblood." Pansy whispered.

Hermione looked up from her book, and to her disappointment, Pansy was standing in front of her table.

"What are you on about, Parkinson?" She mumbled.

 _Honestly._ The library was supposed to be her sanctuary away from Pansy, and even that was ruined too.

"Haven't you heard?" Pansy smirked. "The Chamber of Secrets has been opened, and whatever came out of it is out to get _you_ and your Mudblood friends." She informed her.

Hermione gasped at the new information she'd be given. If what Pansy was saying was true, then Hermione was truly in grave danger.

"I hope it does _more_ than petrify you." Pansy cackled before walking away.

* * *

 **14 March 1993**

 **Slytherin Common Room**

"Have you heard the news?" Daphne Greengrass asked as she approached her friends sitting by the fire.

"No, but do enlighten us about what has got you so excited." Draco smirked.

"Granger. She's figured out what's been attacking the Mudbloods." Daphne announced.

"Did she get petrified?" Pansy asked eagerly.

"No." Daphne groaned.

"Bugger." Pansy complained.

Blaise rolled his eyes at his house-mate's comment. "Honestly, Pans. Why do you hate Granger so much? What'd she ever done to you?" He questioned.

Pansy looked at him like he'd grown a second head. Why did she need a reason?

"She's a Mudblood. What other reason do I need to hate her?" Pansy questioned candidly.

* * *

 **Third Year**

 **4 December 1993**

 **The Three Broomsticks**

The pub was overflowing with Hogwarts students, including that of Hermione and her best friends, Harry and Ron.

The overwhelming amount of people inhabiting the small space made it very difficult to move around.

Fortunately for the Trio, they had managed to find a table of their own whilst Hermione graciously offered to fetch the drinks for them.

Pansy observed as Hermione struggled to maneuver a tray of butterbeers through the crowd.

Whilst her friends continued to chat amongst themselves, Pansy had slyly taken out her wand under the table, and had it pointed at the beloved Gryffindor.

"Locomotor Mortis." Pansy muttered successfully.

Suddenly, Hermione lost her balance, and harshly fell to the ground; taking the tray of butterbeers with her.

Heads turned towards the origin of the noise, and many laughed at what they saw. Hermione was drenched from head to toe, laying on a puddle of butterbeer. Harry and Ron rushed to her aid, but the damage was already done.

* * *

 **Summer**

 **20 August 1994**

 **Twilfitt and Tatting's, Diagon Alley**

The supply list for fourth years insisted on dress robes fit to be worn for a ball. Ron and Harry headed to Gladrags Wizardwear in search of dress robes of their own whilst Hermione chose to venture in a different store.

She entered the upmarket shop of Twilfitt and Tattings, and was met with a large assortment of elegant dress robes for all occasions.

She rummaged through the racks, and smiled at the feeling of silky, soft fabric grazing her hands.

Despite the array of beautiful dresses, Hermione was having difficulty finding the _right_ one.

Just as she was about to give up on her search for a dress, she locked eyes with a floaty, periwinkle-blue dress, and knew she'd found the one.

Cradling the dress in her arms, she admired the soft material and its beautiful design.

"A beautiful dress for a beautiful young lady." While Hermione was in her own bubble of euphoria, she was unaware that a woman had approached her.

Hermione turned to the owner of the complement, and saw that it was an older woman. She had a long mane of soft brown waves that matched her doe-like eyes.

"Thank you." Hermione blushed.

"You have exquisite taste, indeed." The older woman smiled. "You attend Hogwarts, I presume?" She asked softly.

"Yes, fourth year." Hermione supplied politely.

"My daughter as well. She's actually in the back trying on dress robes of her own." She said.

Just as Hermione was about to reply, a high-pitched screech resonated around the room.

"Mother!" An all too familiar voice screamed.

"It seems like my attention is needed elsewhere." The woman announced amusingly. "It was nice meeting you, dear." She told Hermione before walking off to the back of the room to attend to her daughter.

Hermione walked to the front of the store and handed the dress to the sales lady.

"It comes to 165 galleons dearie." The sales lady told her.

Hermione stood in front of the counter with her mouth agape. She didn't have that kind of money. Her parents made an honest living as dentists, yes, but not enough where Hermione could afford such an expensive dress.

What with the costly tuition for Hogwarts, Hermione didn't have the heart to burden her parents any further by asking for more money for her school supplies.

She was about to reach out for the dress and return it to the rack, but had found herself being interrupted.

"Charge it to the Parkinson account." The woman that Hermione had met earlier told the sales clerk.

"Mother! Have you gone mad? You can't pay for _her_!" Pansy screeched as she watched the exchange.

Turns out, Pansy had been the daughter the woman had spoken of earlier. Hermione couldn't believe her luck. How had such a kind lady given birth to someone as horrid as Pansy?

"Your daughter is right." Hermione admitted grudgingly. "Although I appreciate your generous offer, I can't accept. It's too much."

"Please. You'd actually be doing me a favor." Pansy's mother smiled. "My family's gold would otherwise just rot away in Gringotts." She joked.

"Mrs. Parkinson, it's very kind of you to offer, but I-I can't." Hermione answered while shyly looking down at her feet.

"Indulge me, my dear. A beautiful dress such as this would do well in your capable hands. Please." Pansy's mother pressed.

Pansy, on the other hand, stood aside and seethed with jealous rage. She grew up witnessing her mother's kind gestures towards others, and was begrudgingly used to it by now. But to watch her mother interact with Granger like this? Pansy wasn't having it.

In the end, Hermione reluctantly accepted Mrs. Parkinson's generous offer and thanked her profusely for it.

She left to meet with Ron and Harry, leaving Pansy and her mother to pay for the rest of their purchases.

"She's a Mudblood, mother." Pansy sneered. "Her kind doesn't deserve your generosity." She whined.

"Pansy!" Her mother chided. "How many times do I have to tell you not to use that kind of language?" She scolded disapprovingly.

"What! It's true!" Pansy defended herself.

"Which dress did you want?" She asked, choosing to ignore her daughter's atrocious behavior.

"I want them all." Pansy huffed.

"Pansy, your supply list only mentioned the need for _one_ formal dress robe. Why in Merlin would you need to purchase all seven?" Her mother asked.

"Options, mother!" Pansy screamed. "You expressed no difficulty paying for that Mudblood's dress, why must you question me?" She complained.

"Alright, dear. I'm sorry." Mrs. Parkinson replied softly as she proceeded to pay for all the seven dresses.

The sales clerk handed Pansy the shopping bags, and the girl merely grabbed them out of the clerk's hand without even a _thank you_.

"Pansy dear, you must remember that even though Muggle-borns might not have grown up knowing about our world, they possess the same magical abilities such as you and I, and have as much right to be a part of this world." Mrs. Parkinson informed her daughter softly as they continued their stroll through Diagon Alley.

* * *

 **Fifth Year**

 **1 September 1995**

 **Prefects Carriage**

"What are _you_ doing here?" Pansy asked with disgust. "This is the Prefects carriage, so get out."

" _I am_ a Prefect." Hermione defended, ignoring Pansy's responding sneer.

"It's bad enough they allow your kind to even attend Hogwarts, now they're making you Prefects as well? Bloody hell." Pansy complained.

"Hey! Hermione's more deserving than you'll ever be." Ron shouted in defense for his best friend.

"Your blood-traitor boyfriend coming to your rescue? How _sickeningly_ sweet." The Slytherin girl mocked.

"Listen you pugged-face brat…" Ron began, but the look Hermione gave him told him that he shouldn't finish his sentence.

"Drake! Did you hear what that blood-traitor called me? I'm your fiancé, defend me!" Pansy screamed at Draco.

"Get a hold of yourself! We're not even engaged yet." Draco announced. "Thank Merlin for that." He muttered under his breath so she couldn't hear his comment.

"Not officially, but our parents already arranged our marriage. It's only a matter of time." Pansy smirked.

* * *

 **Sixth Year**

 **9 October 1996**

 **Potions Classroom**

"In order to successfully brew the Draught of the Living Dead, you must be precise in your measurements. Foregoing even the slightest detail may prove to be astronomically damaging." Professor Slughorn warned his class.

If Hermione managed to brew Polyjuice Potion in her second year, how difficult was this going to be?

Turned out, it was even more challenging than Hermione had expected. She stood at her station, and cried in frustration.

She'd stirred the potion clockwise just as her Potions book instructed, but she wasn't getting the desired result she was expecting.

Harry, on the other hand, was surprisingly doing very well with his concoction.

Hermione made her way to her best friend's Potions station, and berated him for help. Whilst she was away from her station, Pansy took it as the perfect opportunity to proceed with her plan.

After ensuring that everyone was preoccupied with their own musings, Pansy walked passed Hermione's cauldron, and successfully dropped Erumpent horn fluid into it.

By the time Hermione was able to drag Harry to her own station for help, the ingredient that Pansy had dropped in the cauldron was already building up to its desired effect.

As Hermione stirred her potion counter-clockwise, it started to fizz and bubble.

"Is this supposed to happ-." Hermione was interrupted as her cauldron suddenly exploded in her face.

She'd been knocked unconscious, and was forced to spend several days holed up in the Hospital Wing.

* * *

 **Seventh Year**

 **27 June 1997**

 **Great Hall**

It was the day before graduation, and the seventh years were buzzing with excitement.

Hermione, more so, than anyone. As much as she enjoyed her time at Hogwarts, she couldn't wait to escape the torments of Pansy Parkinson.

Despite her parent's initial protest, Hermione was going to move into a flat with her best friends, Ron and Harry, and they were going to work in the Ministry together.

Life was going to be great. And she'd hopefully never have to see Pansy Parkinson ever again.

* * *

 **A/N: NEW CHAPTER WILL BE ADDED THIS SATURDAY 6/9/18**

I know this was long, and I don't know about you guys but I personally don't enjoy reading accounts of their First-Seventh year, and I find it kinda boring. But I thought adding this in was necessary to the story so you guys have a better grasp and deeper understanding of Hermione's "relationship" with Pansy. It'll make finding out the truth sweeter in the end.

165 galleons= 820 British Pounds/1,013 U.S Dollars

Erumpent horn fluid also known as _Exploding Fluid_ according to Harry Potter Wiki.

Why was there a troll in the castle if Voldemort (Quirrel) let him in?

Let's go with: Hagrid found him injured in the Forbidden Forest and was nursing him back to health in his hut, and believing that the troll was still knocked out and/or too injured to move, Hagrid left him to tend to his other duties as gatekeeper, but the troll wandered into the castle while Hagrid was gone.

Who opened the Chamber if Voldemort doesn't exist in the story? Bare with me as this version might be too hard to believe but let's go with Dumbledore, having searched for the secret Chamber ever since he became a professor at Hogwarts because he was curious and wanted to know if the legends were actually true, finally found it and was able to open it because he'd been practicing Parseltongue, but he had no idea what he was releasing by opening the Chamber or if there was even anything to release and he felt terribly guilty afterwards.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** I know it's been a LONG LONG LONG while since I've updated this story, and I'm DEEPLY sorry for that! Life's been super hectic lately! To my O.G. readers (if you're still with me, fingers crossed that you are), so so so sorry for keeping you guys waiting, and not letting yall know I was going on hiatus. When I first started this story, I honestly expected myself to finish it. Like with every new idea that crossed my mind, I was pumped to get the ball rolling right away. But somewhere along the line, I kind of lost inspiration. I had an overall idea of the plot in my head, but I wasn't exactly sure _where_ I wanted the story to go, and _how_ I wanted it to unfold. To add to the fact that I felt really insecure about my writing abilities; it just felt like I was trying way too hard to deliver a good, serious story for you guys, and that was really taking away from who I actually was as a writer in regards to my writing _style_.

However, with that out of the way, I just want to reassure you guys that I'm in a much better place now, and I WILL be completing this story. I just ask that you guys be patient with me.

 **IMPORTANT:** For those who read the first two chapters BEFORE this update, I highly recommend that you guys go back and re-read those chapters because I may have made a few _slight_ changes, and taken a few things out.

And if you don't want to continue reading the story, then I completely understand! To those who decided to stay, thank you, and I hope you guys enjoy!

* * *

Hermione sat in the living room of their modest three-bedroom flat, sifting through a great deal of pages from the morning paper. Her body was hunched over the coffee table, her hair gathered in a disheveled top knot, and her eyes rapidly scanning the words etched on the pages in front of her.

Searching for any indication that might point her in the direction of a-

Her musings were interrupted as she watched the fireplace roar to life, breathing out green flames, and spitting out one of her best friends.

After carefully dusting himself off, Harry strolled out of the mouth of the fireplace, leaving behind the flames that once engulfed him.

"Find anything?" He pondered, tossing his bag onto the armchair as he moved to disrobe himself.

She shook her head in defeat. She'd been at this for a few days now, and she was starting to wonder if it was finally time for her to give up. But she knew giving up wasn't an option. Not one she could afford, anyways.

Harry migrated to the kitchen, grabbing himself something to drink. "You'll find something soon enough," he encouraged as he satisfied his thirst.

Hermione abandoned her task at hand, and followed her friend into the kitchen. Feeling disheartened by her lack of progress, she laid her head on the cold surface of their granite countertop, and let out a frustrated sigh.

"Where's Ron?" She asked, finally taking note of the redhead's absence. Usually, the two boys arrived home together. They were both fully fledged Aurors now, so their work schedule were almost-if not, identical.

Harry stood on the other side of the counter, still nursing the glass of water in his hand.

"He's still at the Ministry. He hadn't been filing his reports for the past couple of weeks, so Kingsley made him stay behind to do so. You know how he is," he shrugged.

"How is it that I received more O's on my N.E.W.T's than the both of you combined, yet _I'm_ the one who's unemployed?" Hermione grumbled, throwing her arms up in the air in frustration.

Harry visibly recoiled at her words. Not because he took offense in what she said, but because of the absolute truth in her empowered tirade.

"You had that job with the Department for Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures," Harry reminded her, his feeble attempt in trying to make her feel better.

Though, if he was being honest with himself, he didn't really know what else to say. As much as he wanted to comfort his best friend, nothing he could say would change her situation. She'd been without a job for a few months now, so all the wisdom he had bottled up and saved for a situation like this was all used up.

"That was before my boss had me _fired_ when I refused his advances!" She cried out.

Right out of Hogwarts, Hermione was offered the job of Junior Advisor to the Deputy Head of said department due to her impressive exam scores. She was elated beyond belief.

However, after two years on the job, the elderly boss she came to admire and respect was replaced with a younger, sleazier version of him.

At first, it was subtle touches here and there. His hand _accidentally_ grazing her behind. His nonstop desire to work late nights with her. His constant gaze following her every move.

When he'd finally grown the courage to further his advances, Hermione almost hexed his bollocks off. She threatened to report him.

In fact, she did.

But no one believed her. Her superiors were convinced it was _she_ who was making the advances towards _him,_ and not the other way around.

Not only did they fire her for apparently _disrupting the work environment_ , but they also had her blacklisted. Hence why Harry was helpless when it came to helping her out. As much as he wanted to help her get a job in the Ministry, she was labeled a _nuance to work with_ , and no matter who vouched for her, no one wanted to hire her.

When Harry and Ron found out about her sleazy boss, and how he'd been treating her at work, the two boys wanted to storm in his office, and tear him to pieces. But Hermione stopped them from doing so.

She'd already loss her job, she didn't want her friends to befall the same fate. They were still in training at the time, so any trouble from them would've had them kicked out of the Auror program. Hermione didn't need that on her conscience.

"Have you tried asking Fred and George for a position in their joke shop?" Harry hated to ask, given the clear fact that the twin's joke shop was no place for someone like Hermione, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

"They can't afford to hire anyone new at the moment, but they said I'd be the first one they'd call if a position opened up," she admitted sheepishly.

She hated asking anyone for help, especially from her friends, but her savings were running out, and she was still without job. She didn't know how much longer she could last. Harry and Ron graciously offered to cover her share of the rent for the next couple of months until she got herself all sorted out, but Hermione couldn't ask that of them.

She could always go back to living with her parents again, but that would be her very last resort. Her relationship with her parents, her mom more specifically, was...complicated, to say the least. But that's a topic for another day.

"Well...I actually might have something in mind," Harry began, sounding a tad bit nervous, "I overhead something the other day, but I wasn't sure if you'd be up for it," he admitted cautiously.

He had a job in mind, but it wasn't anywhere near as prestigious as her previous employment. Far from it actually.

"What is it, Harry? I'd be up for anything at this point!" She shouted excitedly. It appears her luck was looking up.

"I was afraid you'd say that," Harry sighed.

* * *

When Hermione stepped into the foyer, she immediately felt out of place. As the converging grand staircases towered above her, she felt an outburst of magical energy surging through her body.

It felt as if the wards were deciding what to do with her presence. Or it almost felt as if...the Manor itself was somehow... _welcoming_ her. Seeing as this was the ancestral home of one of the most notable Pureblood families in the Wizarding World, she would guess the former.

Safe to say, she was probably one of the only few Muggle-borns that ever had the privilege of roaming these spacious corridors with its marbled floors, and gold trimmed walls.

Either way, Hermione felt...protected, in a way.

She was escorted to the parlor room by an elderly woman who introduced herself as _Isobel_. What greeted her inside was impressive considering it was almost the size of her whole flat alone. The walls were a dark, deep blue. Yet the polished, white marble floors gleamed in the light. The two contrasting colors of light and dark worked well together as sunlight poured into the room through the large, bay windows on the opposite side.

As she took in the extravagance of the room's interior, she almost forgot why she was there in the first place. If it were not for a man clearing his throat, and getting her attention, Hermione probably would have spent all day admiring opulent room.

The man was seated in one of the armchairs in the middle of the room. His locks, both on top of his head, and his well trimmed beard, were a very dark brown-almost black.

She gave him a hesitant smile as she approached him, a silent apology for her rude behaviour, gawking at his home. He gestured for her to take a seat opposite of him. He was well-groomed to say the least. Suddenly, being so close to him, and getting a glimpse of his high-quality attire, she felt overwhelmingly underdressed.

She sat up as straight as she possibly could, with her hands calmly placed atop her lap. She was afraid that one slight move was going to jeopardize what might've been her only chance at getting back on her feet.

"I-I just want to thank you for agreeing to an audience with me," Hermione smiled politely even though she was a complete nervous wreck inside.

Despite her feeble attempt at being cordial to her host, his face remained passive nonetheless, and his hands remained folded on top of his crossed knee. He just stared at her.

"I understand you're here to interview for the housekeeping position," he articulated his words in a slow and calm manner. Hermione was enthralled.

"Yes, Mr. Parkinson, sir." She nodded. She wasn't sure what title to address him by. _Sir. Master. My Lord._ Technically, he was royalty in the Wizarding World.

One of the elite. The Sacred Twenty-Eight. The Wizarding World's very own aristocracy.

"I take it you have experience undertaking the sort of duties necessary for the job," He assumed. "Who was your previous employer? Which family?" He inquired.

Hermione gnawed at her bottom lip. "To be completely honest with you, sir." She took a pause, "I've never held a housekeeping position before. Nor any position regarding the upkeep of a home, especially one as large as yours. This will...hopefully be my first," she confessed.

He stared at her intensely. His hands that were once folded on top of his knee were now at his side, clenched into a fist. He clenched his jaw, irritation oozing out of him.

"No experience, yet somehow, you expect me to hire you," he paused. "Why?" Mr. Parkinson drawled out.

"Because I'm quite positive that out of everyone you'll be interviewing for the job, I'll be the only applicant with 12 Outstanding N.E. under their belt. Despite my lack of experience in the field, I'm more than qualified to perform simple housekeeping charms here and there. I can assure you that," she told him as humbly as she could.

Hermione hated parading her exam scores, but what she hated _more_ was being underestimated. All her life, people assumed that because she didn't have bollocks hanging between her legs, she wasn't capable of achieving great things. And ever since she found out she was a witch, people have labeled her inferior to others simply because of her heritage.

Her heritage, for crying out loud. A part of her that she _couldn't_ change, even if she wanted to.

That's why she worked so hard in school. She wanted to prove everyone wrong. More specifically, she wanted to prove people like Pansy wrong. She was tired of the limitations placed upon her, and others like her, simply because someone decided they were superior to them for whatever stupid reason they conjured up.

"Remind me your name again," he simply instructed her. Her tenacity impressed him. It was clear to him that whoever this woman was, she wasn't going down without fight.

"Hermione, sir. Hermione Granger," she answered.

"Ah, yes. You're the Muggle-born who beat out Draco Malfoy for the number one spot in your year. Lucius Malfoy wasn't your biggest fan when he found out his son had been second best to someone like...your kind," he chuckled darkly.

"Pardon my intrusion, sir. But how do you know all this?" Sometimes, Hermione's curiosity got the better of her.

"I'm a member of the Board of Governors for Hogwarts. I make it my business to know the student rankings...to see where my daughter stands." Ah yes. His daughter, Pansy.

Hermione had almost forgotten who was interviewing her; she'd almost forgotten that she was currently in the ancestral home of her childhood bully.

When Harry told her about the job opportunity, and _who_ she would be working for, Hermione was reluctant to say the least. As much as she never wanted to see Pansy ever again, as much as she wanted to escape her torments forever, this job was her only beacon of light in her time of darkness.

She wasn't about to put out that light because she was afraid to face her school-yard bully. She wasn't sorted into Gryffindor for her to cower behind enemy lines.

"Tell me, Miss Granger. How does someone with your exceptional grades and above average magical skills end up interviewing for a housekeeping position?" He genuinely wanted to know. As one of Hogwarts' Governor, he'd heard a lot of good things about the woman in front of him. It was why he agreed to an audience with her in the first place.

She stood out to him. More specifically, she stood out to him because this was the same girl who had put in a request for a time-turner in her third-year. For what? So that she could _more_ classes.

"I held a prominent position in the Ministry, actually. In the Department for Magical Creatures, to be exact. I worked there for two years or so before...before they let me go from the job," she explained.

"Is there any particular reason as to why you were let go?" He raised his brows, expressing his genuine curiosity.

Hermione was debating within herself if she should tell him the truth. Her superiors didn't believe her then, why would this man whom she's barely met believe her?

"My...my previous boss made sexual advances towards me. And when I refused, and had him reported, he had me fired from my post. No one believed me, and they all took his side. I've been blacklisted ever since," she confessed, twiddling with her thumbs as she did so.

Upon hearing her confession, his gaze softened, and his posture relaxed. He gave her a short nod; a nod of understanding, his way of telling her he believed _her_.

"Despite your lack of experience, you do understand what this job entails right? Doing all our washing, making our beds, all that sort?" He asked her, moving the conversation along.

"Of course, sir. I live with two boys. I'm quite used to cleaning up after someone else's mess," Hermione informed him.

He flashed her a tight smile. He appreciated her candor. Not many people nowadays were upfront with him from fear of angering him, and getting on his bad side. But it was becoming clear to him that she had very strong opinions, and she wasn't good at bottling them up.

"If you _were_ to get the job, you'd have to live here of course. Would that be a problem?"

Hermione gave herself a moment to think it through. Living under the same roof as Pansy Parkinson, the girl who made her life a living hell throughout her years at Hogwarts? Was it a sacrifice she was willing to make?

Given how desperate she was, putting up with her childhood bully once more was a small price she was _reluctantly_ willing to pay. This was only temporary, she repeated to herself over and over again. She'd work for them for a few months, and hopefully by then, she'd have found a new job.

She took a deep breath of courage before visibly shaking her head, letting her new employer know that it _wouldn't_ be a problem.

"Then the job is yours. You'll start as soon as possible," he told her.

* * *

After concluding their meeting, her new employer passed her off to the elderly woman she'd encountered earlier, _Isobel._

It turns out Isobel's daughter was having a baby, so she graciously offered her services to the soon-to-be parents. Hermione was to be her replacement.

Isobel explained to her that despite the large size of the Manor, she would be the only housekeeper on the premises considering she could use magic to do the household chores and all. In addition to cleaning up around the residence as the job title suggested, Isobel explained to Hermione that she'd also be responsible for keeping up with the family's other needs.

Isobel guided her around the vast estate, giving Hermione a small tour-telling her which doors led to which room, which room belonged to which member of the family, and so forth. Hermione carefully took everything in, worried that if her attention lapsed for just one moment, she would forget it all.

Isobel answered Hermione's every question-her tone warm and comforting. Almost like a coddling grandmother Hermione never had.

After taking Hermione around each wing of the estate-each one ten times the size of her flat, Isobel showed her the servant's quarters where she would be staying for the foreseeable future.

There was a seating area in the middle of the room, with a small beige sofa, and two matching armchairs opposite of it. A double bed was pushed against the wall opposite of the door, centered and already made up. The walls were painted a light creme color, and the floors were ash wood, instead of the polished, marble tiles seen throughout the rest of the residence. Overall, the room was surprisingly large and accommodating, and even cozy she would say, considering it was just the _servant's quarters_. She even had very own ensuite bathroom.

 _Maybe working for the Parkinson family won't be as dreadful as she imagined_ , Hermione echoed the thought in her mind.

"I'll give you a few days to gather all your belongings, and have it transferred here," Isobel stated, startling Hermione out of her reverie.

"Did you like working here?" Hermione asked. She wanted to know what _exactly_ she was getting herself into. She'd already said yes to the job, so whatever answer Isobel gave her-positive or not, it didn't really matter, there was really no turning back. But nonetheless, Hermione appreciated the insight.

"Master Piers and Lady Helena have been very kind to me," Isobel smiled, referring to Mr. and Mrs. Parkinson. The two ladies migrated to the sofa situated in the middle of the room. "I've been with them since the birth of their daughter, Mistress Pansy," she supplied in her hushed, gravelly voice. "You're around the same age as her," Isobel noted, quickly inspecting Hermione up and down.

"We...We actually went to Hogwarts together," Hermione informed her with a tight, forced smile, "We were in the same year. But she was sorted into Slytherin, and I into Gryffindor, so we didn't really interact much," she lied, not wanting to be the catalyst for unnecessary drama.

"Oh, how delightful!" Isobel exclaimed. "Though I take it Slytherin and Gryffindor are still rivaled houses?" To which, Hermione slowly nodded in affirmation.

"Then I'm sure you're quite aware of Lady Pansy's...shall we say...her less pleasant side," she whispered the last part-out of guilt for speaking out against one of her masters. "She can be quite a handful that girl," Isobel informed her-not that the information was new to Hermione. "Her parents-bless their heart, spoiled her _rotten_ so sadly, she's used to getting what she wants. And if she doesn't-well, Merlin help us all," she quipped.

"Speaking of, where is everybody?" Hermione wondered, purposely disregarding Isobel's negative comments about Pansy. She didn't want to start her new job on the wrong foot.

Throughout the tour of the whole estate, Hermione was on edge-expecting her old rival to appear out of thin air, but she never came. In fact, besides her and Isobel, no one else was around. Other than their voices echoing off the walls now and then, the Manor was eerily silent.

"They're having tea with the Malfoy's," Isobel provided, "That's where Sir Piers ran off to after your meeting with him." _No wonder he was so well-dressed_ , Hermione mentally noted.

"I take it they're close then?" She inquired, referring to the Parkinson's and the Malfoy's.

Back when they were still in Hogwarts, Hermione always noticed Pansy hanging around Malfoy. For awhile, she thought they were together-at least that's what Pansy was spreading around school. But whenever she saw the pair together, she always noticed how distant Malfoy was with Pansy, as if he was subtly rejecting her advances.

"Quite close, my dear," Isobel started, "In fact, they're planning Lady Pansy's nuptials with the Malfoy Heir as we speak." To which, Hermione almost laughed. She couldn't have been anymore wrong about her earlier assessment of her former schoolmates.

Two families-both part of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, both wealthy beyond their wildest dreams, both bloodlines as pure as a mother's love for her child, joining together as one-Hermione should have seen that one coming.

* * *

Malfoy Manor

"I was thinking we could announce our engagement during my birthday ball. It's coming up in a few weeks. Then we could have the wedding here in your beautiful garden," Pansy suggested-carefully sipping back her tea, her whole body jittery with excitement.

Draco rolled his eyes in annoyance. He didn't want to be here, let alone, be having _this_ conversation. Not soon after, he felt his father, Lucius Malfoy, nudge his leg from under the table-his silent, yet effective way of telling his son to behave.

Pansy wasn't even his _girlfriend_ , yet alone his _fiancé_. Perhaps he'd taken too many bludgers to the head because he _certainly_ couldn't recall proposing to the wench.

In her dreams, perhaps.

"What a splendid idea, my dear!" His mother, Narcissa Malfoy, exclaimed with glee. "What do you think, Helena?" She asked, addressing the mother of the supposed bride.

 _She should ask what_ I _think,_ Draco inwardly scoffed.

"Whatever makes my darling girl happy," Mrs. Parkinson smiled, reaching across the table, and enveloping her daughter's hand in hers.

"It certainly works well with our timeline. We can have the children married off before their 21st birthday," Piers Parkinson noted.

Mr. Parkinson was referring to the clause in the marriage contract that he'd drafted with Draco's father; it stated that their children had to marry before either one of them turned 21 years of age.

 _Blood of my blood_ , the contract stated.

Draco thought it was a load of bollocks. He was nearly 21 years old. He didn't need his parents meddling in his love life, let alone, arranging a wife for him.

Recruiting the help of his best mate, Blaise Zabini, they tried to come up with a plan to get Draco out of the arranged marriage. Sadly, even with their combined minds, they failed to figure out a solution.

Actually, that would be a lie. They did in fact come up with a solution. Like with every contract ever drawn up, there was an exit clause. Of course the exit clause being the fact that one of the parties in the said contract had to die.

However, since Draco wasn't keen on committing suicide, nor becoming a murderer, he grudgingly accepted his fate.

So unfortunately for him, he was now being forced to listen to his parents make wedding plans on _his_ behalf- to a woman he couldn't even stand.

"Do you need help with Pansy's birthday ball?" Narcissa asked the Parkinson matriarch. "I recall you mentioning you needing to let go of your housekeeper…Isobel, was it? I can loan you some of our house-elves if you need them. Don't be afraid to ask! We're going to be family after all," Narcissa smiled softly.

"Thank you for your generous offer, 'Cissa. But you know how I feel about house-elves," Helena reminded her.

"I don't understand, mother. You can buy as many house-elves as you want with the amount of gold in our vaults! And after buying the house-elves, you don't even need to pay them anymore. I simply don't understand your desire to _hire paid_ _help_ ," Pansy chimed in, rolling her eyes in obvious disgust.

"Well considering house-elves aren't all that pleasant to look that, I don't blame your mother one bit for not wanting any of them in her home," Draco commented with mirth. He elicited a short chuckle from the men at the table, but a frown from his mother.

"Oh, Drake! You say the most amusing things!" Pansy giggled as she flirtatiously hit him in the arm. Draco inwardly gagged at her touch.

"I told you, dear. I'm uncomfortable with the idea of _owning_ someone," Mrs. Parkinson explained, bringing the conversation back around, and electing to ignore her daughter's cheeky tone. She always used to reprimand Pansy, but after noticing it was causing more harm than good to their mother-daughter relationship, she opted to let some things slide-which probably wasn't smart parenting on her part.

"But house-elves aren't even people! They're _slaves_. They exist merely to _serve us_!" Pansy spouted-in which her mother flashed her a stiff smile, silently beckoning and mentally praying her daughter to end her small tirade.

Draco choked back a laugh as he listened to mother and daughter exchange words. They couldn't be anymore opposite of one another if they tried. In fact, come to think of it, Mrs. Parkinson and her stance on house-elves reminded him a lot like-

Piers Parkinson joined his hands together. The loud crack echoing in the air got everyone's attention, effectively causing Draco to lose his train of thought.

"No matter. It's been resolved. I've already hired Isobel's new replacement," Mr. Parkinson informed them, assuming his usual role of mediator between his two girls.

"Oh, is that _why_ you were late, dear?" His wife asked him. Instead of Floo-ing to the Malfoy's together as a family as they usually did, Piers sent his girls off without him, claiming he had some important business to attend to.

"Yes, I was interviewing a potential candidate. In fact, I hired her on the spot," Piers explained.

"That's wonderful! Problem solved," Narcissa beamed, "Do we know of her?" She questioned. Not know of her personally, Merlin no. As in, did she use to work for a family they knew? Perhaps, someone within their social circle.

"As a matter of fact, she went to school with our children," he revealed. "Her name's Hermione Granger."

For a split second, everything was unnervingly still. The spell was broken when Pansy's screech-like laughter pierced the air. She simply couldn't believe her luck. She felt like a little kid on Christmas morning.

"Father!" She gasped, sharply drawing in a quick breath, "Do you really mean to tell me that _the_ Hermione Granger is now our... _housekeeper?"_ She shouted with glee.

"Yes, I'm quite shocked myself," Lucius threw out. "If I remember correctly, she had the highest grades in their year-consequently earning her the title of _Brightest Witch of her Age_." At the mention of grades, Lucius looked to his son with evident disappointment etched on his face. Second best to a Muggle-born

"This is terrific news!" Pansy cheered excitedly before anyone else could get a word out. "That bossy little swot kept bossing us around when she was Head Girl. Now it's time she finally gets a taste of her own medicine," she smirked.

"Pansy…" Her mother gasped in horror upon hearing her daughter's vague threats towards this Hermione Granger girl.

"Helena, let her be. She's just teasing. Right, darling?" Piers Parkinson cooed affectionately.

"Of course, daddy." Pansy flashed him a sickenly sweet smile. They all knew better.

* * *

 **A/N:** What did you guys think? Are my character portrayals okay? Is the chapter too long? Too short? Let me know if you have any concerns! x

emjrabbitwolf suggested a really great idea! Instead of making Draco born on the same year as them, I'm switching their birthdays so that Draco is the one born on September, and H/P are born on June.


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